


The Original: Climb, Glide, Plunge

by TheStrangestOfThings



Series: The Climb, Glide, Plunge Books [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: All relationships for now are strictly platonic, Backstory, Exposition, Female!Reader - Freeform, Flying, Gen, NYC, Reader Insert, Wingfic, Wings, angel(ish)!Reader, if you squint you could read this as a Tony/Reader story, reader is very screwed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-08-12
Packaged: 2018-12-02 19:49:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11516229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheStrangestOfThings/pseuds/TheStrangestOfThings
Summary: Wings. All you had ever wished for as a child. Specifically, big, white, feathered angel wings. A shooting star? ‘I wish that I had angel wings!’ A fountain! "Can I have a coin, please, Mommy?" ‘I wish I had wings so that I could fly.’ What time is it? 11:11? ‘I wish that I had really cool wings!’Want to know something?If you wish for something three times in your life, and really, really want it, you’ll get it.





	1. (OLD)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all! Strange here!  
> I just want to start this off by saying that this will be a four chapter work, and will detail the backstory of the version of the reader that I will be using in all of my {insert Avenger here}/Reader fics. Also, if it's not clear, the large groups of italicized text are flashbacks. It would be much appreciated if you could read this and leave some kudos or a comment or something! Thanks!
> 
> WARNING: Un-beta'd work ahead. Read at your own risk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE READ!
> 
> This is the older version of this story: if you would like the newer version, you can read more about it in part 5. Be warned; what I am writing in these first four parts WILL NOT BE CONTINUED. The newer version of this story will be essentially the same story line, but with heavy edits as well as a few plot changes.

Wings.

All you had ever wished for as a child.

Specifically, big, white, feathered angel wings.

A shooting star?

_‘I wish that I had angel wings!’_

A fountain! ‘Can I have a coin, please, Mommy?’

_‘I wish I had wings so that I could fly.’_

What time is it? 11:11?

_‘I wish that I had really cool wings!’_

Want to know something?

If you wish for something three times in your life, and _really_ want it, you’ll get it.

 

The muscles in your back were sore.

You walked into the bathroom, a frown on your face as you turned around and saw the muscles writing under your skin.

_Snap!_

You spun around, grabbing one of the handles of the faucet. It turned, ever so slightly. Your sink drain was still plugged from earlier when the kid you had been babysitting played with his paper boats in there.

You turned your focus to the mirror, afraid of what you’d see there. A bone, long, white, and very, _very_ rapidly growing, was protruding out of your back. You didn’t have enough breath to do anything other than gasp.

 

_You and your family were sitting under the night sky on a couple of blankets. You were practically trembling with excitement as your parents chuckled beside you. Even at a mere seven years old, you had always been one for science. When you had overheard your parents talking about a meteor shower, you couldn’t control your excitement. Your seven-year-old self had come barreling into the kitchen, attaching to your mother’s legs, and begging_

_“Can I see the shooting stars, Mommy? Please?”_

_So there you were, waiting for the first meteor to streak across the sky in a bright blaze of light._

_When the first one appeared, you gasped and jabbed your parents’ arms._

_“Did you see that?”_

_Of course, they had. When the second one appeared, you made a wish, something that even your younger self knew would be impossible._

_‘I wish that I had angel wings!’_

 

Your shirt was getting in the way of the bone coming out of your back, only hindering its process and putting you in more pain. You tore it off in an adrenaline-induced haze.

You closed your eyes, and tears began to squeeze through your eyelids.

This wasn’t happening.

You refused to believe it.

Wings weren’t possible.

On a human being, having wings would be useless. If you somehow managed the extra bones and muscles and strengthened the already existing muscles in your chest and back enough to actually fly, the power of your chest muscles alone would be enough to rip your ribcage open at the sternum.

Had someone slipped you something in a drink at that party yesterday?

Were you having a crazy allergic reaction that caused you to hallucinate?

Were you dreaming?

Your knees buckled, and you only barely managed to hold yourself up by the edge of the counter.

Nope, not dreaming, not hallucinating, not having an allergic reaction; this was very much real.

The writhing in your back had spread to your chest, and you saw muscles moving that you didn’t even know you had. Were you gaining muscles?

The bone from before was longer, and now there were two of them. It began to turn a sort of orangey-pink, like the color of raw chicken. You groaned as you saw little clusters of tiny red strands begin to form along this raw chicken, this muscle.

You gained feeling in your bone/muscle/nerve stumps.

 

_You were taking a vacation in the Caribbean, to a water park known as Atlantis. The sprawling resort took up the entire island. On your way back to the hotel from dinner one night, you were distracted by the enormous yachts all lined up in the water just off the dock._

_Your parents fell behind, watching you with smiles on their faces as you pulled ahead, mesmerized by the beautiful boats. Suddenly, you stubbed your toe on a step up and tripped, catching yourself at the last moment. You bounded up the steps, coming across a huge fountain filled with sculptures of jumping dolphins. Waiting for your parents to catch up, you reached a hand into the cool water spurting from the nearest dolphin’s blowhole. It jumped from your hand into the water beneath, misting your face._

_Your parents sneakily snapped a photo before the moment ended. You turned to them just as your father was hiding the camera away again, and even your sixth-grade self knew what had just happened. You gave them a knowing smile but said nothing about the photo, instead, asking for a penny. Your mother pulled her wallet from her purse and fished through her change pocket. She pulled out an old, worn penny and handed it to you. You gladly accepted it, thanking her as you turned back to the fountain._

_The penny flew through the air when you threw it, catching the setting sun’s rays, and landing in the pool with a satisfying plop._

_‘I wish I had wings so that I could fly.’_

 

A thin layer of pale skin erupted from your wi-

Nope. Not wings.

\- stumps.

You screamed hoarsely as the pain became even more intense.

_Please, make it stop._

More bones were sprouting from the originals, more muscle was forming, more nerves were being created, more stuff was weighing down on your back, but as it became heavier, you got stronger. Your muscles stopped writhing, and they could hold up your new appendages easily.

You looked back up at the mirror through blurred eyes. You gagged when you saw the pale-skinned extremities behind you.

 

_At 17 you no longer truly wished for wings, or at least that was what you tried to convince yourself. Sure, flying would be pretty damn cool and all, but it was so unrealistic that you had pushed your childish dreams to the back of your mind._

_You grabbed your phone when it buzzed, rudely pulling you from the book you were reading. Grumbling to yourself, you unlocked the phone, very shortly responding to the unfortunate friend that had texted you._

_You looked up at the time. 11:11. You scoffed to yourself, wishing one last time:_

_‘I wish that I had really cool wings!’_

_Then suddenly, your back was agonizingly sore._

_You went to the bathroom to check it out._

 

The pain finally subsided.

The tension in your shoulders melted away.

You looked back at the sink, as the _drip, drip, drip_ became _plop, plop, plop_ in the slowly filling bowl.

But, wait.

You turned your attention behind you once more, and noticed that something was still very wrong. Looking up at yourself, you noticed that there were no feathers to be seen.

If these were actually wings, wouldn’t there have to be feathers?

No, no, no, no - you would not be stuck with these for the rest of your life.

Out of nowhere, you _felt_ pins and needles under your pale new skin.

Out of nowhere, you _saw_ pins and needles growing out of your pale new skin.

Your vision became hazy.

Your eyelids became heavy.

As you began to lose consciousness, you wished you had a penny.

Maybe a full sink could be a fountain for a moment.

You would have thrown the penny into that sink and

_wished_

that you didn’t have wings.


	2. (OLD)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You get yourself into more trouble, and then end up realizing how royally screwed you are.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE READ!
> 
> This is the older version of this story: if you would like the newer version, you can read more about it in part 5. Be warned; what I am writing in these first four parts WILL NOT BE CONTINUED. The newer version of this story will be essentially the same story line, but with heavy edits as well as a few plot changes.
> 
> Warnings for minor injury and light swearing.
> 
> WARNING: Un-beta'd work ahead. Read at your own risk.

_ Third Person POV _

 

She collapsed on the floor and her wings finally stilled.

 

Her wingspan was three times her height.

 

The wings protruding from her back were enormous, elegant, exquisite.

 

She began to shiver, and she curled into a tight ball.

 

Her wings began to shakily move.

 

They wrapped around her, hugging her in the same way that her arms did.

 

She laid there for a while.

 

Her parents came home later than they told her they would.

 

They snuck up the stairs, peeking into her room, becoming worried when they didn’t see her.

 

She curled herself tighter when they called her name. 

 

Her parents found her.

 

They screamed.

 

_ Your POV _

 

Bright flashing, lights.

 

Darkness.

 

A burst of sound, sirens.

 

Silence.

 

A hand feeling its way up your wings, but  _ against the grain of the feathers _ .

 

Nothing.

 

Something sharp, right at the base of… 

 

Your eyes opened instantly, you rolled over, you sat up, you looked around dazedly. You were in a hospital, most likely in Manhattan. You were in a room, surrounded by doctors, on a surgery table. One doctor, closest to you, was looking particularly shaken. She was trembling, she was holding a surgical blade in her hand, she - 

 

They were going to cut off your wings.

 

“What… what’s happening?”

 

Your voice was smaller than you wanted it to be. Your wings subconsciously drew themselves closer to you defensively. 

 

Another doctor, on the side opposite the doctor that had tried to cut your wing off - you glanced back at her nametag, which read Willow - approached you slowly. This one, Zeke, was fiddling with something behind his back. He tried reassuring you: 

 

“It’s okay, we’re trying to help you.”

 

In a flash his hand was coming closer to your neck, he was holding a needle, filled with what was presumably some sort of tranquilizer. Just as quickly, you brought your right wing up and caught him on the wrist. The needle went flying across the room and shattered on the wall.

 

He looked at you with  _ fear  _ in his eyes.

 

You didn’t  _ want  _ to be feared.

 

“Oh my god, I am so sorry -”

 

He took a step back.

 

“Pin her. Tranq her. Dispose of the wings. Now.”

 

You extended your wings as far as they could reach, hitting another doctor in the head.

 

You whipped your head around wildly, looking for an escape. There was a door to the hallway. There was a higher chance of being caught if you ran through the halls. There was also a window. That could give you a head start.

 

You grabbed a chair from next to the table and you threw it at the glass. It shattered. You ran to the window, hitting doctors with your wings and probably knocking them over.

 

You folded your wings tightly to your back.

 

You jumped through the small window.

 

Extending your wings, you panicked. You flapped them frantically as you rushed towards the sidewalk. Your fall slowed, although only slightly. You hit the ground on your feet.

 

_ Snap! _

 

_ Shit _ . You had probably broken your ankle.

 

At least you hadn’t landed on the destroyed chair. Small blessings.

 

The sidewalks were empty due to the ungodly hour. Flapping your wings to help keep weight off of your bad foot, you began to hop/run down the sidewalk. 

 

There was no way you could outrun whoever was coming after you on foot. You had to figure out how to really fly.

 

You hopped faster, flapped your wings harder.

 

You gained air, lost concentration, and came crashing back down to the sidewalk, this time on your stomach. You probably had bruised a few ribs that time. Hopefully not broken them.

 

In the distance, you heard a siren.

 

You scrambled to your foot, and began run-hopping.

 

You raised your wings above your head and brought them down as hard as you could. 

 

You gained air, but only about a foot. You flapped again, repeating the pattern that got you in the air in the first place. Higher, better. Again and again, you pushed the air downwards and your body upwards.

 

You were about as tall as the buildings next to you. Leveling out, your wings sliced through the air and you maintained your height with slower flaps.

 

The sirens were coming closer.

 

Panicking, you flapped faster, staying parallel to the ground. You gained speed, but not enough.

 

Glancing over your shoulder, you saw nothing but feathers. However, when you looked under yourself could see quite clearly.

 

A police car - 

 

No, an entire fleet of police cars were coming around the corner.

 

Your breathing sped up, you began to hyperventilate. What if they caught up to you? Would they shoot at you?

 

Why were there even  _ that many  _ chasing you?

 

Did they think you were that dangerous?

 

The reality of the situation began to settle.

 

You had wings.

 

You were  _ flying. _

 

Your wings had almost been cut off, but as much as you wanted them gone, you couldn’t let the doctors sever your new limbs.

 

You had left your parents behind.

 

_ Your parents had probably been the ones to issue to order to  _ **_cut your wings off._ **

 

You faltered and your wings stilled. You began to slow down and lose altitude, but then you realized that you couldn’t stop. You had sealed your fate the second you jumped out of that window. You had to continue.

 

You had to keep fleeing.

 

Muscles straining with the effort, you regained the altitude that you had lost, and then some. You sped up and the police cars behind you began to fall behind. You headed for East River, on the eastern (duh) side of Manhattan. There would be small, uninhabited islands off the coast of Long Island, right?

 

Heading for the clouds, you decided that you would fly right under them, partially in them, to help hide from anyone who might be chasing you. Who knows, S.H.I.E.L.D. could even be coming after you. You doubted that hiding in the clouds would deter them, but it was the best you could do.

 

Coming up on the river, you braced yourself. Deep bodies of water were your biggest fear, and you were about to fly over one. You closed your eyes for a second, immediately regretting it when you faltered and tripped a little bit. You looked down at the river below, your heart pounding. Trying to not focus on that, you turned your attention to Long Island.

 

There was a small island in the middle of the river several miles ahead. Turning yourself towards it, you began to head northeast.

 

~~~

 

Your eyes opened to a gale blowing in your face. You felt oddly weightless, like you were -

 

_ Falling. _

 

In a rush, you extended your wings as you plummeted towards the surface of the river. Beating them frantically, you began to pull up, barely missing the water. You didn’t slow down again until you reached the clouds.

 

You had fallen asleep for a couple seconds in the air. You were exhausted mentally and physically from all of this continuous flying. Since this was literally your first time in the air, you were constantly tripping over stray breezes and it was absolutely  _ terrifying _ . The closest thing you could compare it to was bad plane turbulence.

 

The  _ good  _ news was that the small isle was rapidly growing closer. Hopefully, you would be above it within the next ten minutes.

 

The  _ bad  _ news was that there was a flock of seagulls headed for you. You tried to lean forwards so that you could coast under them, but it wasn’t enough. They descended upon you, a flurry of small beating wings and claws and beaks. Cawing in your ears, they flew past you. You opened your eyes but then realized that you could still hear one bird. You nearly turned yourself upside down in the air in your efforts to see what was behind you, realizing that one of the birds was following you.

 

You couldn’t help but laugh to yourself because  _ oh my god _ it thought you were a big bird. You looked down to see the approaching island, and you began to dive downwards. Realizing that this was a bad idea and would probably end with you crashing to the ground after getting whipped by trees, you banked and began to circle instead.

 

The little bird followed you, and the both of you landed on a rocky beach on the south side of the island.

 

Momentarily forgetting about your potentially broken ankle, you placed an equal amount of weight on both feet and immediately collapsed to the rocks below.

 

Groaning in pain, you dislodged your foot from under you and laid on your back, gently folding your wings beneath you to form some sort of bed. Looking down at yourself, you realized just how bad of a situation you were in.

 

You were still in a hospital gown, with one huge hole cut out in the back for your wings and several smaller rips and tears. Under the hospital gown was the pair of underwear you had been wearing earlier that night, but nothing else. You were barefoot, without food or water, and all on your own.

 

Well, except for the bird. It hopped over towards you, cocking its head curiously.

 

“Hi there.”

 

Your voice was hoarse from your dry throat and underuse over the past night.

 

It hopped back a bit, but then proceeded to hop back towards you, closer than before. You reached a hand out and it cawed at you, sidestepping your clumsy fingers.

 

“I wanna pet you.”

 

You giggled at yourself, slightly delirious.

 

It cawed at you again, and flew off, presumably back to its flock.

 

“Nooooo, come back. I don’t wanna be alone…”

 

Whining at the bird, you stuck your lip out in an exaggerated pout. But then real tears began to make their way down your face. You had left your life behind when you jumped out of that window. You were completely and utterly screwed without food and water and you were alone on this goddamn island. You were going to die.

 

You curled up into the fetal position, wincing as you dragged your foot across the smooth rocks. You yanked one of your wings from underneath you, using it to cover your body.

 

You cried yourself to sleep just as the sun began to rise over the horizon.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I take artistic liberty for the hospital setting, as well as how long it takes the reader to get to this island.  
> However, I did do some research on popular hospitals in Manhattan, and where they were in Manhattan.  
> The island mentioned in this chapter is based off of South Brother Island here in the real world.  
> Also, HOLY MOLY 100 READS ALREADY?  
> Thank you guys so much for that, as well as the kudos you've given me! Kudos and comments are always appreciated.


	3. (OLD)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After realizing how royally screwed over you are and experiencing it first hand, you decide to do something about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE READ!
> 
> This is the older version of this story: if you would like the newer version, you can read more about it in part 5. Be warned; what I am writing in these first four parts WILL NOT BE CONTINUED. The newer version of this story will be essentially the same story line, but with heavy edits as well as a few plot changes.
> 
> Warnings for mild language and fairly detailed descriptions of a panic attack. I take artistic liberty with that, since I've never experienced one myself and had to go by what the internet said symptoms were.
> 
> WARNING: Un-beta'd work ahead. Read at your own risk.

You regained consciousness to find the sun shining directly above you.

 

Your lips were dry and cracked, your skin was stinging at the extended exposure. Your throat felt like sandpaper, and you were _sore to the bone._

 

Bringing a hand up to shield your face, you slowly sat up. You had slept on one wing, and the other had extended to your side, resting on the smooth rocks. You had been splayed on your back in a starfish position, completely exposing a _lot_ of skin to the sun.

 

Squinting and groaning, you began to get up, only to topple over at the weight on your back. Since you were still somewhat unaccustomed to your wings, they would occasionally catch you by surprise with their rather large weight.

 

This time, you paid special attention to your wings and stood successfully onto your good foot, taking in your surroundings. To your right, you could see Manhattan. To your left, Long Island.

 

You had flown here last night, fleeing the fleet of police cars that had been chasing you as well as the doctors who had tried to cut your wings off and your parents, who had probably demanded the amputations.

 

You had no food and no water that wasn’t filled with salt. You were still in your hospital gown.

 

How had they not found you?

 

You were a lonely winged girl, lying in plain sight on an island beach in East River. You doubted that anyone would have trouble telling you apart from others from this point on.

 

How could you even hide your wings?

 

You folded your wings as tightly as you could to your back, craning your neck to look over your shoulder and nearly losing your balance on your one foot. Your wings had become flat white crescents on your back. They were each about a foot long and a few inches thick at their thickest point.

 

Like that, apparently.

 

If you didn’t have a gaping hole in the back of your gown, you could have completely hidden them. Granted, keeping them that tightly folded would not only take a decent amount of effort, but get _very_ uncomfortable eventually.

 

Extending your wings again, you realized you had to make a choice. You had to either stay on the island and die, or fly for help.

 

Obviously, you weren’t just going to sit here and die, so you had to choose the latter.

 

The hard part was trying to figure out where the _hell_ you were going to fly for help. S.H.I.E.L.D. would probably interrogate you and put you in a holding cell for later experimentation. That was a no. There was also no way you could fly back home. Your parents would turn you in to the local cops immediately, and going back to the hospital was just plain stupid. Raiding some random skyscraper probably wouldn’t work either, considering they were almost all office buildings or penthouses. Or a tourist attraction. All of the above would be pretty bad.

 

Oh.

 

Didn’t someone on the news say that Tony Stark was selling Stark Tower?

 

Yes.

 

_Yes._

 

That was perfect! You had seen planes flying away from the tower, which you could only assume were moving things out. Aside from that one that had crashed on the beach after Spider Man had attacked the vulture on it. That, however, was a different story. They had cleaned up the beach and Tony Stark had probably taken whatever salvageable stuff was in it. Not only that, but they were probably done moving things, as it had been a while.

 

If you remembered correctly, the new buyer would be moving in pretty soon. That left you to find another place to stay after someone else took the tower, but for now, this would work.

 

Slightly bending your knee, you jumped up into the air and pushed down powerfully with your wings. Shooting into the air, you allowed yourself to enjoy actual flight for the first time. This had been your _childhood dream_ and it had _come true_.

 

Now, wasn’t that a surreal thought.

You smiled and looked up into the sky, spinning around as you reached the peak of your takeoff. You fell backwards, laughing as you spread your arms and wings. Flipping onto your stomach, you pulled up and did a flip in the air.

 

Righting yourself, you hovered and gazed down at the amazing view that being up in the air gave you. The Manhattan skyline was breathtaking from here, and Long Island behind you looked amazing. The island you had come from looked so quaint and undisturbed, as if no one had ever set foot there before.

 

You swept your gaze back to the bustling cityscape in front of you, and noticed something on the beach. Were those… people? They seemed to be jumping or waving or something. But then -

 

\- what did the sunlight just catch on?

 

Was that a phone?

 

_Shit._

 

They had pictures of you.

 

_Pictures._

 

Panicking, you flew as fast as you could into the nearest cloud, which wasn’t large at all. It soon dissipated and you flew to the next closest, which then disappeared and _oh my god they were going to find you again_ and you just flew as fast as you could -

 

In a single flap, you had pushed yourself halfway to the Manhattan coast from above your small island.

 

In the span of maybe a second.

You had two thoughts at that moment: one - _oh my god_ that was fast, and two, _I have to get out of here_.

 

You tried to recreate your powerful flap, only partially succeeding and traveling a portion of the distance you had first flown. You flew as hard as you could in the direction of Stark Tower, your unease growing as you crossed into the city and just barely saw people below you.

 

Were they taking pictures too?

 

Were they going to post them somewhere?

 

_Would you be found again?_

 

In a single flap, you closed the remaining distance between you and the tower.

 

You dropped rather ungracefully out of the air onto the upper decks of the tower, landing on both feet rather than your one good one. Crumpling to the ground, you forced yourself to your hands and knees and began to crawl to the door.

 

How were you even going to get in? It was probably locked and alarmed.

 

Good god, you had not thought this through. Yes, brilliant idea, fly to the tallest skyscraper in Manhattan owned by most likely the richest man in the world as well as _one of the fucking Avengers -_

 

“Sir, there is an intruder on the balcony.”

 

Shit.

 

No, no, no, he couldn’t possibly still be here.

 

No!

 

Forcing yourself to your feet, you began to frantically backtrack, your wings extended around you in a loose cocoon, prepared to fly when you reached the end and fell off.

 

What were you going to do? You had absolutely zero clue.

 

You could maybe fly down to -

 

“Well I can’t say I’ve seen this one before.”

 

No.

 

You shook your head, your eyes blurring and filling with tears.

 

You were going to be brought back to the hospital.

 

They were going to cut your wings off.

 

You had begun to shake, you couldn’t feel your fingers, your wings were trembling violently as you continued your way backwards along the balcony.

 

Your heart was racing, you couldn’t breathe, _he was coming closer_.

 

You had stopped moving, just curled into a loose ball, wings wrapped around you protectively.

 

“Hey Feathers, what’s wrong?”

 

He had lowered his voice, he was crouching in front of you.

 

“I’m going to touch your hand, okay?”

 

He gently took your clammy hand, rubbing your palm with his thumb.

 

You were sucking for air, but nothing was coming. You began to see black spots at the edges of your vision.

 

“Look at me.”

 

His voice was quiet but firm, and you tried to zero your gaze in on his eyes, even though the dark spots were getting bigger and bigger.

 

“Okay, now try to match my breath. In -”

 

You sucked air in, finally filling your lungs.

“- and out. Keep going.”

 

Shakily, you released the breath and began to feel calmer.

 

“In -”

 

Inhale.

 

“- and out.”

 

Exhale.

 

“Just keep doing that. In and out, slowly.”

 

Gentle rise, gentle fall.

 

In.

 

Out.

 

Breathe.

 

Inhale.

 

Exhale.

 

“You good?”

 

You nodded almost imperceptibly, looking away from his searching gaze. You went to stand up, prepared to fly away without another word.

 

Before you could get very far though, you realized he was still holding your hand in his.

 

“Where do you think you’re going?”

 

His voice was firm, insistent.

 

“I’ve caused you enough trouble. I’m sorry about that. I didn’t realize that you were here.”

 

Your voice was quieter than you’d like, and still slightly shaking.

 

“I have room here for a pretty lady anytime.”

 

He cracked a grin.

 

A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips. His happiness was rather infectious.

 

“What do you mean you didn’t realize I was here?”

 

He pulled his hand away and cocked his head, the smile falling from his face.

 

You flushed and tugged your wings a little tighter around you, turning away to hide your shame.

 

“I’m sorry, that must sound so horrible, like I was trying to steal or something, god, I’m sorry. I… just wasn’t thinking straight.”

 

“Do you need help?”

 

When you didn’t answer, he continued.

 

“It doesn’t really matter what you answer, or if you even answer at all, because you obviously do need help. So, let me rephrase that. Come inside and I’ll get you some food and water, because you definitely need it.”

 

You turned toward him as you opened your mouth about to protest, but he cut you off before you could get anything out.

 

“Ah ah ah, don’t even try.”

 

You folded your wings tightly to your back and you saw his eyes flash with interest as they nearly disappeared completely. He held his tongue though, and opened the glass door to let you inside.

 

“I don’t have much left since we’re moving upstate, but you knew that didn’t you?”

 

You kept your eyes on your feet as you limped along, and didn’t say anything.

 

He fished through his bar, finding a clean glass and filling it with water. He handed it to you as you settled yourself onto a stool and began drinking in small sips, which was very hard to do considering water had _never_ tasted better in your life.

 

“I’m going to go get food from the kitchen. Don’t go anywhere.”

 

You felt him staring at you rather intensely, and you looked up to meet his gaze. He raised his eyebrows at you, waiting for a response.

 

You just nodded.

 

You sat at the bar as Tony strode into the elevator and the doors closed on him.

 

What were you going to do?

 

Would you do as he asked and stay where you were, or would you once again try to fly off? Well, the pros of staying would be that you would get food and water, but there was also the chance that he could turn you in again. Flying off would keep you more hidden, but you would probably die without food and water soon. You could always find it somewhere else.

 

What if you went back home?

 

You could sneak into the house, and even if your parents were home they wouldn’t be able to catch up to you if you ran away. Or rather, _flew_ away.

 

Yes. You would do that.

 

Standing shakily, you limped back towards the glass door onto the balcony. Pushing it open, you stepped out into the warm summer air.

 

_Ding!_

 

You whipped back around and your wings extended when you heard the elevator doors open and you saw Tony carrying a box of what was, presumably, food in one hand and a pile of clothes in the other.

 

You froze when he met your gaze and walked onto the balcony, your breathing picking up and your wings beginning to tremble.

 

“I thought I told you to stay put.”

 

His voice had hardened, his brow was furrowed.

 

Was he mad at you?

 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

 

You were prepared for him to yell, to call the cops, to do something, but all he did was laugh, almost humorlessly.

 

“I’m not the one you need to be apologizing to, Feathers.”

 

For a moment, the barest of smiles crossed your face. ‘Feathers’?

 

You looked down at your feet and the smile vanished.

 

“I know I’m not really wanted here.” You looked up, meeting his gaze. Steeling yourself, you continued; “I know that as soon as you get the chance, you’ll call the cops and they’ll -”

 

“They’ll what, Feathers?”

 

Partially folding your wings, you didn’t respond, your eyes blurring once again.

 

“I’m not losing you, am I? Work with me here.”

 

Part of you wanted to say no.

 

Another part of you just wanted to _let it all out_.

 

“They tried to cut them off.”

 

And you finally looked up at him.

 

“I’m sorry, what?” His voice raised the smallest bit and his right hand tightened around the clothes he was holding.

 

“Last night. I was at home, doing my own thing, and then suddenly, I started _growing goddamn wings_ .” You spat the words out bitterly and continued. “I passed out, my parents came home, and next thing I know, I’m in a hospital with a knife at the place where my right wing meets my back. I can only assume that my parents were the ones who wanted them gone. I ran, jumped out the window, landed on two feet and probably broke an ankle in the process. I flew away, saw an _entire fleet of police cars chasing me_ , and landed on an island in the middle of East River. Slept there, woke up to sunburns, dehydration, and starvation, and decided that since you were selling the tower there would be no one here and I could just _waltz_ in. That logic was really fucking flawed, obviously, so here I am. _That’s_ why I’m trying to leave. So, can I go? Again, I know I’m not really wanted here, so I’ll be happy to take the burden of myself off your shoulders.”

 

Tony’s teeth were clenched, and the hand holding the food was close to leaving dents in the box. “I’ve been described as many things in my life, Feathers. Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist _,_ the list goes on. But I am _not_ a heartless coward. You obviously have nowhere to go, and I see absolutely no point in turning you in to the police and mutilating you in the process.”

 

And with that, he turned on his heel and strode back into the tower. You didn’t really have any choice but to follow him, considering you had just spilled your soul to the guy.

 

He dropped the box of food on the bar, and you sat back down, opening it. Inside it was some Chinese takeout and a plastic fork. You dug into the food hungrily, but then reminded yourself that you couldn’t eat too fast, or you’d throw up. Slowing down, you looked over at Tony as he sat down next to you and placed the clothes he was carrying on the bar.

 

“Take these. Hopefully they fit, you seem to be about Pepper’s height.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

He pulled out a phone and turned it on.

 

“I’m going to call my friend Bruce, y’know, big green rage monster slash human doctor, and he’s going to fly down here and take a look at that ankle.”

 

You heard what he had left off of the end of that sentence: “and your wings.” But still, he was going to fly _the freaking Hulk_ down to Stark Tower to take a look at your injured ankle and your wings.

 

You were a little too surprised to respond.

 

He got up from the stool he had been sitting at, and walked to another corner of the room to call Dr. Banner.

 

You continued to eat and realized that your appetite was a lot smaller than it had previously been. You had only finished about half of the container and you were already full. Not wanting to push yourself, you put the fork back in the container and closed it.

 

Tony walked back over to you, shoving his phone in his back pocket.

 

“Grab those clothes, and follow me. I’m going to show you to where the kitchen is, where bathrooms are, where you’ll be temporarily staying -”

 

Your eyes widened when he said ‘temporarily’.

 

“We’re moving everything out, Feathers. Of course, you’ll be coming to the facility upstate with us.” He turned around and continued walking with you on his tail.

 

You were going to go to the Avengers facility in upstate New York.

 

Oh my god.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for 200+ reads and 25+ kudos! I honestly can't believe I've made it this far! Hope you guys liked this chapter :). This was originally only going to be the first half of Chapter 3, but I just kept writing and writing and writing and before I knew it, Chapter 3 was a 20 page google doc. Woops :))). I split it up into two, possibly three chapters, and that's thrown off my projected chapter count. I don't really know how long this will be, but I've got an idea and I'm taking it and running with it. I take artistic liberty for how long it takes the reader to recover from her panic attack, as well as her speed. I realize that Tony might be a little OOC, but it was really hard to get his mannerisms into my head, even after rewatching the first Iron Man movie.
> 
> Btw, this story takes place in an AU that is canon-compliant up until right after Spiderman: Homecoming. From there, the rogue Avengers are pardoned on the terms that they are needed if the world gets in trouble again. Thor and Bruce are here on Earth, rather than in space, and Loki is still faking Odin back on Asgard.
> 
> See y'all soon
> 
> ~ Strange


	4. (OLD)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE READ!
> 
> This is the older version of this story: if you would like the newer version, you can read more about it in part 5. Be warned; what I am writing in these first four parts WILL NOT BE CONTINUED. The newer version of this story will be essentially the same story line, but with heavy edits as well as a few plot changes.
> 
> Possible TW for verbal (and maybe even physical; I don't know, it really depends on how sensitive you are to it) abuse  
> Once again, there will be mild swearing in this chapter.
> 
> WARNING: Kind of beta'd work ahead. Read at your own risk.

After showing you around, Tony had directed you to a room where you would be staying until you flew upstate. Dropping the small pile of clothes on the bed in the center of the room, you walked towards what you assumed was a bathroom.

 

Your assumption proved correct, you turned on the shower and stripped off the nasty hospital gown and dirty underwear. Stepping into the water, you gingerly washed the dirt from your skin and feathers and the grease from your hair.

 

Closing the shower door, you nearly toppled over because you realized that when your wings got wet, they were  _ really heavy _ .

 

Good thing you hadn’t fallen into the ocean.

 

After you had toweled off, you searched through the cabinets and found some aloe, which you slathered all over yourself, stumbling the whole time due to the extra weight.

 

Satisfied with your cleanliness for now, you walked back to the room and began to put on the clothes, which he had said were Pepper’s. The underwear was the tiniest bit too big, and so was the bra, but you’d make do. You ran into a bit of a problem when clipping the bra, though; your wings grew out of your back right where your back strap would go. Sighing, you forced the strap above your wings and clipped it there, which was pretty uncomfortable.

 

Tony had also given you a thin zip-up hoodie, which was also kinda big, and a pair of shorts. You folded your wings as tightly as you could, and put the hoodie on over them. You had to tie the strings at the front of the shorts pretty tight to keep them from falling off your hips.

 

You pulled your wet hair into a messy bun, and walked out of the room, prepared to find more to eat. Opening the fridge, you found the food that you had begun to eat earlier and popped it in the microwave.

 

“Hey, Feathers.”

 

You looked back as Tony entered the room, giving you an odd look when your wings were nowhere to be seen.

 

“Mr. Stark,” you acknowledged him rather formally. You didn’t want to overstep your bounds.

 

You turned back to the microwave to take the food out, and Tony spoke up again behind you.

 

“One, it’s Tony. Two, we should probably find some clothes that fit you better.”

 

Sitting down at the table, you listened as he continued.

 

“Do you want me to bring you back to your house to get all of your stuff? I have a pretty big backpack that you can use for it.”

 

You were not prepared for that.

 

“I’m not going to let them take you back to the hospital again.”

 

“Mr. Stark, I -”

 

“ _ Tony. _ ”

 

“Tony,” you took a breath and continued, “I don’t want to cause you any extra trouble.”

 

“It’s hardly any trouble at all. It’s either that, or we go out and buy new clothes, which I doubt is safer.”

 

You pressed your lips together, mentally sending Tony a dirty look. Of course he would threaten you by saying that he would spend money on you.

 

“We’ll go back to my house and get my stuff.”

 

He chuckled, searching through a drawer for something. When he found whatever he was looking for, he walked back over to you. He had scissors in his hand.

 

“You’re going to need to show me where to cut, or you’re gonna have to do it yourself. You choose.”

 

“Feel around for two small crescent-shaped things sticking out of the middle of my back - yes, those - and cut around them. That should do it.”

 

He began to snip away at the fabric quietly while you ate.

 

“How do they work?”

 

Chewing on the food that you had in your mouth, you thought to yourself about how you could answer. You didn’t really know much about them yourself.

 

“Honestly, I don’t really know. They seem to be similar to a bird’s wings, but they can fold up so tightly that it should be impossible; I don’t know how all of the bone and muscle and feather condenses into such a small space like that. Keeping them like that for a while can get tight, though. It’s like curling up into a really small ball for a long time; it takes a decent amount of effort, but it’s not an unnatural feeling.”

 

He made a noise of understanding in the back of his throat as he snipped away the last bits of fabric on your left side. You extended that wing, stretching it out and nearly knocking Tony over in the process.

 

“Sorry,” you smiled, nearly laughing at his last second step backwards.

 

He chuckled, “What kind of a wingspan do you have when you’ve fully extended them?”

 

“Together, I think they’re about three times my height, so each wing is one and a half times my height. They also seem to be really powerful. When the wings grew, so did the muscles that would support them. I’m surprised I haven’t ripped open my ribcage with my new chest muscles yet.”

 

Tony cut away at the fabric around your right wing as he processed this new information.

 

“When Bruce gets here, I’d like to take some x-rays of your back and wings to see what kind of skeletal structure you’ve got going on back here.”

 

You nodded your assent, and as you finished up your box of food, Tony finished cutting the hole around your right wing. This time, he stepped back before you even moved.

 

Smiling again, you moved to throw your trash into the nearest bin, and Tony took a breath.

 

“I’m going to get my suit, and we’re going to fly to your house.”

 

You froze, your mouth opening slightly in shock.

 

“The Iron Man suit?”

 

“Yep.”

 

“Do you think you’ll need it?”

 

Tony set his jaw, not quite meeting your wide-eyed gaze. “Better to be safe than sorry.”

 

You settled down on the couch as you waited for his return, and a shiver went down your spine at the thought of Tony having to use his suit to keep your parents from taking you back to the hospital.

 

~~~

 

The wind rushed through your feathers as you flew with Tony towards your house. You were barely in front of him as you led the way.

 

Turns out that he could keep up with you pretty well. His repulsors had been built for fast flying, and so had your wings.

 

Tony had given you a small foot brace for your bad ankle before you left (he had apparently made it in the five minutes before he got his suit on, and it was extremely light), and you could walk on it without any problems now.

 

You landed gently on your front lawn and heard Tony land next to you, his feet hitting the ground with a muffled  _ clang _ . He flipped up his faceplate, looking over to you.

 

“You good?”

 

You nodded and took a deep breath, walking towards the front door with Tony just behind you.

 

Stepping up onto the front porch, you took a deep breath, halfway folding your wings behind you, and rang the doorbell. Tony stood down on the first step, ready to back you up if need be. He played with the strap of the backpack he had brought apprehensively.

 

A mechanical whirring noise came from behind you and you glanced back to see Tony’s helmet retreating into his suit, apparently thinking that it would be rather intimidating if they saw just his helmet and not his face.

 

“Who is it?” Your father’s gruff voice came from behind the door. He was not happy.

 

“It’s me.”

 

The door swung open, revealing your father’s shocked face.

 

“Who is it, honey?”

 

Your mother wandered into the foyer, freezing when she saw you and Iron Man on her front steps.

 

“Where have you been?” she asked breathlessly, her gaze flicking back and forth from you to Tony.

 

“I’d like to get my -”

 

“Why did you go to  _ him _ instead of immediately coming home after you ran from the hospital?” Your father spat out the word  _ him _ like a bad-tasting piece of food.

 

You saw Tony’s jaw twitch out of the corner of your eye.

 

“Honey!” Your mother was scandalized at your father. “I am  _ so  _ sorry, Mr. Stark!”

 

“It’s quite alright,” he replied rather icily.

 

“As I was trying to say before you so rudely interrupted me, Dad, I would like to get my stuff.”

 

“ _ Excuse _ me? You aren’t going anywhere young lady. You are coming inside this instant and we are going to fix your problem.”

 

“What problem,  _ Dad _ ?” You spat out the word as if it were poison.

 

“Your wings, sweetie. That’s not natural.”

 

Your mother’s voice was soft, almost ashamed.

 

“How  _ dare _ you -” Tony threateningly advanced to the next step, his voice rising and his metal boot clanging on the cement.

 

“ _ I  _ think they’re absolutely beautiful, thank you very much.” You accentuated the words by extending your wings fully to show them off. “Also, I do believe trying to cut off your daughter’s appendages without her permission, no matter how unusual they happen to be, is rather illegal.”

 

You glimpsed Tony grinning at you out of the corner of your eye, and you felt a flash of pride for standing up to your parents, who were currently gaping at you with their jaws on the floor. Your heart was racing; you had never really backtalked them before.

 

You brushed past them, collapsing your wings for the split second it took you to pass through the door, and opening them back up quickly enough to brush your father across the face with your wingtips. Tony snickered to himself as he walked in behind you, his feet making dull thuds as they landed on the hardwood floor.

 

Bounding up the stairs to your room with Tony flying close behind, you entered and began opening drawers and throwing clothes onto the floor as Tony picked them up and shoved them into the bag behind you.

 

You had already discussed with him what you would need to get and what you wouldn’t. He had said that you would be provided with basic toiletries and all new laptops and phones among other things. You needed to grab clothes, any special medications that you took, and anything personal that you wanted to have with you.

 

After rifling through your drawers and closet for a while, you paused to hear heated whispering down in the foyer.

 

And then a  _ click. _

 

“Honey, no!”

 

You heard your father’s heavy footsteps advancing up the stairs, speeding up to a run as he pounded through the hall. He turned the corner into the room, holding up a pistol in shaking hands.

 

“Give me my daughter back.” He was talking to Tony.

 

Tony’s helmet reappeared and closed with a clang and he raised his right hand, his repulsor powering up. Your wings shot out, knocking a few things off of your dresser.

 

“Tony.” You were having a hard time breathing. 

 

“She’s not anyone’s to own.”

 

No. Not right now. You refused to have a panic attack  _ right now. _

 

Inhale through your nose.

 

Exhale through your mouth.

 

“I’ve decided who I’m going with, Dad. There’s nothing you can do to stop me.” Your wings had subconsciously begun to angle themselves towards Tony, as if to protect him, even as your voice began to shake in fear of your father actually  _ using _ that gun.

 

He paused, and his hands suddenly steadied on the gun.

 

“I could kill you.”

 

“Oh, please. Iron Man is standing in front of you and your daughter is behind me. Are you going to shoot through the armor I’ve created to withstand alien invasions?”

 

His only response was to fire the gun. The bullet bounced off of Tony’s armor and embedded itself in the ceiling.

 

“If you keep doing that, then I’m going to have no choice but to fire this repulsor.”

 

And with that, your father proceeded to empty his gun on Tony. It was really a miracle that none of the bullets bounced back and hit him.

 

Tony fired his repulsor. Your father let out an agonized noise and you cringed as it hit him in the wrist, knocking the gun out of his hand

 

“Tony, we need to leave,  _ now. _ ”

 

“You got it, Feathers.”

 

Your father struggled back to his feet as you exited the room and started down the stairs. He stumbled after you, catching up to you as you reached the bottom steps and proceeded to tackle you.

 

You let out a surprised grunt as you were forced to your stomach on the foyer floor, and Tony whipped around to face you. Something in your eyes must have stopped him from interfering, though, because he stayed where he was even as his right hand formed a tight fist, and his left hand risked tearing the strap of the backpack he was carrying.

 

“You are not leaving us. We are going to fix your problem, and then you are going to forget that your wings ever existed.”

 

Tony let out a growl at that, and you proceeded to push your wings straight back, knocking your father off of you.

 

“This was my  _ childhood dream _ , Dad. I won’t let you take that away from me.” You clipped your father upside the jaw as he advanced on you again. This time, he landed on the ground and stayed there. He raised his fiery gaze and as he looked at you, you saw the pure rage that was there.

 

“You are a  _ disgrace _ .”

 

You reached down and slapped your father across the face hard enough to leave a handprint. If Tony reacted, you didn’t hear anything other than the blood pulsing in his ears.

 

“Goodbye, Dad.”

 

You turned on your heel and looked at your mother on the other side of the foyer.

 

You couldn’t seem to say anything. Your eyes blurred, and tears began to fall to the ground.

 

Your mother looked at you pleadingly.

 

Squeezing your eyes closed briefly, you willed away the tears. You were losing your parents. 

 

Forever.

 

Folding your wings, you walked through the door with Tony hot on your heels. Slamming it shut, you stumbled down the steps and dropped to your knees on the grass.

 

The tears were flowing freely now.

 

You heard the backpack drop next to you.

 

Tony stepped out of his suit and offered you a hand. Grabbing it and pulling yourself up, you gave him a sad smile.

 

“I’ll never see them again. They’ll never speak to me again. They might as well be  _ dead _ .”

 

He pulled you into a hug, and you didn’t have anything left in you to do anything other than wrap your arms and wings around him tightly. In any other situation, you would have been embarrassed at how you sobbed into Tony Stark’s chest.

 

“I  _ know _ .”

 

And he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy SHIT we have 50 kudos and 400 reads.  
> Honestly guys, thank you SO much! When I started posting I never really expected that over 400 people would read this and 50 people would take the time to leave kudos. It just blows my mind. Sorry about the long wait for this chapter, the next one will hopefully be out much sooner. Again, I hope Tony isn't TOO out of character and that Reader's personality isn't fluctuating TOO much. Also, regarding Stark Tower; I write it as the version that was shown in The Avengers rather than the newer one. I just found that one easier to use, considering it had all those balconies and stuff instead of the newer flight deck.  
> ~ Strange


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